Mulldoos replied, “Aye. And if we hold here, we’re back to what the Commander said-time ain’t doing us any favors just now. We stay, it’s not a question of if Horsecunt Cynead figures us out, just when. Better to make a break before he’s got the witches stuck in like leeches, reporting our every move. Too late then.”
Hewspear started to respond when the Commander held up a hand. “Enough. We’ll convene tonight, once we have some walls around us. And I’ll hear you all out in full before settling on a course. But make no mistake-every path is slick with a precipice on either side. Only question is which is the widest.”
We reached the Jackal Tower. The guards saluted their Commander as we started up the stairs on the outside, spiraling up, and they didn’t give any obvious sign that they’d heard anything usual, so maybe the other captains had held their tongues.
But time was assuredly not any ally of ours.
As we ascended, Vendurro broke off first, followed by Hewspear and Mulldoos, and Commander Darzaak bid us farewell as he continued up to his solar.
Braylar closed the door to his room behind us. I avoided his gaze, still feeling guilty over allowing myself to confide in Skeelana, much less kiss her. But also strangely hurt and acutely disappointed.
The captain said, “The Commander will send for me soon. I will be gone some time. Possibly hours. Continue translating. Throughout the night if need be. I want to know if there is anything else in those texts beyond what you already discovered or Henlester confirmed, yes? Particulars about what Cynead has achieved, or even hints. Any reference to how it could be undone. Weapons like Bloodsounder. Any of it.”
I sat down at the table. “Of course.”
“Very good.” He started toward his chamber but I called out, “Captain?”
I expected irritation, but instead he simply turned around and gave me a level look. “Archivist?”
“I… we are in some trouble here, aren’t we?” I tried to keep any fear out of my voice. “What I mean is, everything that happened today, it-”
“Does not bode well for us, no. But we have a diminished but still formidable ally in the deposed Emperor, and confederates in some of the other Towers who questioned Cynead and his agenda. And that was before today. While the Emperor has appropriated something exceptional today, he did so at great cost-even staunch supporters are likely to chafe at having their own potency abruptly amputated.” He gave what was likely intended to be a reassuring smile, though it was far too twitchy to accomplish that. “Do not despair, Arki. We are not lost. Yet.” Then he winked and walked into his chamber, calling out over his shoulder. “Rouse me when it is time.”
As ever, I was amazed and envious of his ability to rest when things were at their most turbulent. I had no interest in looking through those dusty tomes just then, but it was an order, not a request, and I hoped it would prove a distraction from thinking on precipices, betrayals, and vengeful mighty monarchs.
So I opened my writing case, unlocked the chest, and continued where I’d left off, doing my best to focus.
When the slave boy summoned Braylar an hour later, I hadn’t made much progress, and certainly hadn’t uncovered anything new. But after he left, it wasn’t long before I encountered more absorbing information. And as the hours wore on and the tallow candle burned low, and my food came and grew cold, mostly untouched as I was so excited, I uncovered still more.
I was shaken awake, and not gently. Opening my eyes, disoriented, I found myself asleep on the table, a puddle of drool by my mouth, a page stuck to my lip. The other pages and inkwell were still in front of me, the quill still in my hand, fingers stained, muscles cramping, everything between my temples pounding.
Braylar rapped on the table, doing my head no favors as I slowly lifted it up. “Pack your things. We go.”
“Go?” I asked, wiping off my mouth and looking out the window. It was the middle of the night, or at least not dawn yet. “Where? Why? What’s happened?”
“I will explain as we move. Pack your things. Now. We won’t be returning, so leave nothing behind.”
I stood up, reeling, feeling almost drunk. Eating might have helped. I took a drink of warm water out of my cup. “Not returning? I don’t-”
But the captain had gone into his chamber and either didn’t hear me or was in no mood to answer. It was only when he came back out that I noticed he was in full armor from head to toe, the splinted vambraces, mail byrnie, lamellar cuirass, weapons belts. He had his helm with the aventail in the crook of his arm, and of course Bloodsounder at his side.
I was folding up my writing case and stopped. “I discovered something!”
“I do hope it was a sense of urgency.”
“What? No. In the texts! I read throughout the night-”
“So I gathered.”
“And there were three more references to Sentries, to weapons like Bloodsounder.”
Braylar stopped by the door, turned and looked at me. “Presumably like Bloodsounder. We have no proof.”
“No,” I admitted. “But the Emperor didn’t have any proof that whatever rites or rituals he discovered in his texts about syphoning control of the Memoridons worked either, but they did. And now he does. Have proof, that is.”
He considered that briefly. “So then, out with it, quickly. What is it you think you’ve discovered?”
I started going through my notes, flipping over parchment and scanning, and he stopped me. “Quick. Ly. Summarize.”
Putting the pages down, I replied, “Well, remember I mentioned the guardians disappeared from the temples, taking the weapons with them.”
“I do. And I remember telling you they more likely died or got lost in a bog.”
“Well, there are two accounts in here of guardians who returned. After crossing the Godveil.”
I waited for that to sink in, elicit some kind of reaction. I might as well have been talking to his helm. “And this is proof of something how, exactly? Tales recorded by ale-addled priests or foolish boys. Nothing more.”
“Perhaps. Always possible. But in one account, there were a dozen witnesses, notarized in the record, who watched the guardian, Frustwin, pass through, return for a time, but also cross back over. Only when he did, he took one of the underpriests with him.”
Braylar did seem taken aback by that. If only slightly. “With him? How?”
“The sentry. The weapon. It was some kind of key, and it protected the guardian and the underpriest. They both passed through the Veil. Neither died.”
He twitch-sneered. “According to the tale, which was likely found between bestiaries full of goblins and a tome of prophecies that failed to come true.”
“According to the notarized tale that was sanctioned and included in formal temple records.”
“And when he allegedly returned the first time in front of all these witnesses, is there a narrative of what he claims to have seen on the other side?”
I hedged. “There was. Though it was confusing. The temple guardian was overcome by fervor or fever or-”
“Unadulterated madness. Or the person who jotted down this episode was. Anything else?”
“You did ask me to look for references like this, Captain. I am simply recording what you ordered me to. And while it isn’t conclusive of anything-”
“Anything. Else.”
I sighed. “Yes, actually. There was another priest named Vortniss who must have come across Anroviak’s writing, or Untwik’s. And while he lacked the zeal and obsession with the subject, was actively skeptical in fact-”
“A healthy perspective.”
“Vortniss was still gripped by what he discovered. And he continued hunting for any similar evidence of controlling memory witches. He made it sound like an academic exercise, or indulgence he allowed himself, but it was clear the more he compiled, the more invested he was. And while the memoir is incomplete, it sounds as if he was on the brink of creating something, building on what Untwik discovered, or maybe inspired by something else-there aren’t enough details. But he mentions “frames” several times. And-”